


Linear sky, unfolding answer

by scap3goat (kriegswaffel)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M, PWP, Post-TMP, implied past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:24:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriegswaffel/pseuds/scap3goat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events with V'Ger lead McCoy to have to say a lot about the(ir) past to a certain someone - though his actions when faced with the real thing might differ, a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Linear sky, unfolding answer

“You’re an idiot!” McCoy yelled, testing the refitted _Entperprise_ ’s sound proofing in quite a different way. “Let’s ALL just jump out of an airlock, shall we? It’s a damn miracle that you haven’t died from the meld or just drifted off into some other part of space.

“Oh, I get it, you were desperate for answers just as much as V’Ger! Well then, why not just go to your friends - or, let’s see, not abandon them in first place, eh? How’s that for starters, how’s that for a kamikaze move? What’s so damn special about the Kohlinar anyway?”

McCoy paced the room, his voice having gotten a little quieter.

“So, now you’re here to tell us that there’s more to life than logic and knowledge? Well, that makes it official, I’m surrounded by two friends who’ve gone crazy over the last years! Jim can’t let go of what we had and you, you? Obviously can’t either! So why do it in first place? Why’d it have to be a star-crossed super intelligence? Why not me? Dammit, Spock, why not me?”

He stopped, hands balled into fists.

“Why’d you have to hurt me like that? You selfish… Vulcan!”

He had raised a hand, intent to strike something, when suddenly the door chime sounded. He turned to it and spat out a defeated command for his visitor to enter.

“Commander,” Spock greeted him and McCoy visibly cringed.

“It’s Doctor, Mr Spock. I never had much use for rank.”

One of the Vulcan’s eyebrows rose. “Surely you must see the use of rank in Starfleet, as —“

“Spare me!” McCoy interrupted him. “I’m a doctor, not an admiral. And the one admiral I know has no concern for rank either - and that goes both ways, up and down the ladder, it seems.”

Spock blinked. “You’re referring to him taking command from Decker.”

“And for invoking ‘reserve activation clause’ on me and having Chekov and Sulu ordered aboard without regard for their career - Sulu was next in line for a command on a science vessel within a convoy charting the Antares sector.” McCoy frowned at Spock, the anger he’d nearly shouted out rising again.

“I have duly noted everyone’s career from the end of the five-year-mission to now.”

The complete lack of emotion in Spock’s words only drove McCoy’s anger. “And you think it’s okay to tear open old wounds by bringing us all back together, by forcing this to happen - and just when all of us had kinda settled and had finished grieving!”

“I wasn’t aware any old injury had re-opened during our—“

“Dammit Spock!” McCoy yelled again, the sudden loudness even startling himself. “You know what I mean. Jim drags me into this and then you show up and you’re colder than the day we met.”

He turned away and wished he had some luggage in which he could angrily throw his personal belongings - not that he possessed any of those either. His quarters were as barren as they’d been the day he’d been beamed aboard.

“Just so you know, I’m leaving. This ship. Starfleet. Everything. And if I’ve got to go all the way to the Supreme Court to get my commission resigned. I’m sick of this madhouse.”

“So you’re running away from your feelings this time,” Spock concluded.

McCoy turned to him and took a step forward, hands balled into fists at his side, “What the hell do _you_ know about my feelings, eh? You don’t know, you don’t care. Why don’t you go feed Jim’s ego by holding hands and telling him how great he’s been handling this crisis? Meanwhile I go and forget this whole… clusterfuck.”

Spock looked entirely unimpressed. “So I was right, I’d assumed that the reports of muffled noise in this area had come from you. You have always been quite vocal…”

The doctor took a step back, expression somewhere between amusement and horror. “The nerve of you…” he whispered.

“According to your assessment all back in working order.”

The doctor shook his head and turned away, unable to speak. Spock stepped towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt at human connection, but McCoy turned to him attempting to punch him, but his arm was caught by Spock and they stood only a few inches apart, McCoy chest heaving his heavy breath and filled with anger. For a moment neither seemed to know what to do until McCoy’s other hand shot up, but this time not to strike but to pull Spock in for a kiss.

To both their surprise Spock leaned into the touch, lips gently moving against McCoy’s after a moment of surprise. But McCoy wouldn’t give in so easily, wasn’t appeased by a meagre kiss - he deepened the kiss, soon licking into his mouth, teeth pulling on lips and fingers digging into Spock’s waist through the uniform.

Spock reciprocated, a hand carefully cradling McCoy’s head while the other held on as hard to him as McCoy held onto him.

It was self-destructive, a distant part of the doctor’s mind registered, pushing until Spock would push him away. But somehow Spock wasn’t backing away, not even as McCoy’s fingers made their way under his uniform, searching out cool skin.

“I hate you,” he whispered breathlessly in between kisses, Spock using the chance to get ahead of McCoy and pull the Doctor’s shirt off. “I hate you, hate you, _hate you_.”

“Hardly conclusive,” Spock replied, nipping on the spot under McCoy’s ear.

“Fuck you,” snorted McCoy and made quick work of Spock’s trousers.

“I believe that was the consensus we’d reached,” replied Spock, his own fingers in McCoy’s waistband, but progress halted by McCoy pulling them to the bed, then pulling up Spock’s shirt in no uncertain terms. They stumbled on the bed together, Spock finally getting McCoy to shimmy out of his trousers.

They returned to kissing, McCoy wondering briefly if he’d tasted blood and whether it’d been his or Spock’s, then moaning as Spock’s fingers dug hard into his side and he was sure he’d see the results tomorrow. Slowly some of his anger had turned into equally burning passion, his hands roaming Spock’s body, relearning the textures of Spock’s body and testing whether his reactions had changed. But the squeeze of a buttock still got him the same growl, fingernails trailing up his spine still a hitching breath and a sigh. And pushing his leg between Spock’s still caused the other’s hips to can’t involuntarily against him, a satisfying guttural moan at the surprising contact leaving the Vulcan’s throat.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you,” gasped McCoy as Spock’s hand snuck into his underwear, clever fingers on his cock reducing his words to whimpers and shouts.

When Spock let up McCoy keened unhappily but it gave him a chance to return the favour and having Spock pant against his shoulder was even more satisfying than the touch he’d received.

Somehow Spock managed to pull him back into a bruising kiss and get his hand back in McCoy’s underwear at the same time.

He was tense already, shoulders drawn back in the same way McCoy remembered them to be just before—

“Leonard!” shouted Spock and McCoy sucked hard on Spock’s neck as he came as well.

For some reason, McCoy was even only able to open his eyes, Spock got up and for a moment the hollow pain and anger in McCoy’s rose again as he watched Spock stagger away. A moment later the Vulcan re-appeared, sans underwear, with a towel and wiped McCoy clean. And although he didn’t want to move, Spock managed to get him under the covers before slipping between them himself.

Without thinking McCoy curled up against Spock’s side, head cushioned on Spock’s shoulder. Maybe the arm coming up to curl around him was the best thing he’d felt all evening.

“Think there’s been more reports of noise in this area?” mumbled McCoy tiredly.

“Quite likely,” Spock replied. He turned his head to McCoy and watched the human almost softly.

“Hm, I’ll go and get you a dermal regenerator,” the doctor said softly gently put two fingers next to the cut on Spock’s lip.

Spock shook his head and lifted McCoy’s hand up to kiss it. “Tomorrow, Leonard. We’ll have time.”


End file.
